


A Little Drop of Poison

by MsThunderFrost



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Gift Giving, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jewelry, Language of Gemstones, M/M, Necklaces, Poison, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Worried Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:35:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22596010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsThunderFrost/pseuds/MsThunderFrost
Summary: “Come now, Geralt. How long must I keep my eyes closed? I’m positively dying of anticipation…” the bard shivers as a cool, metallic chain glides along his bare neck, an unfamiliar weight settling against his chest. What in the…?“...So impatient.” The Witcher hums, “It would seem you’ve yet to learn that good things come to those who wait.”“But I’ve been waiting for weeks. If you did not want me to pester you so, you shouldn’t have told me that we’d be staying in town another fortnight because you’d commissioned a surprise--from the town jeweller, no less!” Jaskier’s entire body is tense with nervous excitement.AKAGeralt's presents come with a special...surpriseinside.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 9
Kudos: 429





	A Little Drop of Poison

“Come now, Geralt. How long must I keep my eyes closed? I’m positively  _ dying _ of anticipation…” the bard shivers as a cool, metallic chain glides along his bare neck, an unfamiliar weight settling against his chest. What in the…?

“...So impatient.” The Witcher hums, “It would seem you’ve yet to learn that good things come to those who  _ wait _ .”

“But I’ve been waiting for  _ weeks _ . If you did not want me to pester you so, you shouldn’t have told me that we’d be staying in town another fortnight because you’d commissioned a  _ surprise _ \--from the town jeweller, no less!” Jaskier’s entire body is tense with nervous excitement.

A moment of silence, then, “I only hope that it lives up to expectations.” He muses as deft fingers secure the fishhook clasp into place. Thick fingers curl around the bard’s shoulder as he continues, “Alright, open your eyes. It’d be a proper shame if you pass out from excitement before you even see--,”

“You’re absolutely  _ insane _ if you think, even for a second, that I could  _ ever _ be disappointed in--,” Jaskier’s cornflower blue eyes flutter open, settling upon his reflection in the mirror. All of the air vacates his lungs in a powerful  _ whoosh _ , as if he’d been punched. “Oh Geralt… it’s absolutely  _ magnificent _ .”

The Witcher studies him for a moment, nervous and more than a little uncertain. “I know that it’s not much, but… If you desire something else, I can take it back and have the jeweller--,”

Jaskier’s fingers curl around the pendant protectively. “You absolutely  _ will not _ ‘take it back’. It is staying  _ right here _ , around my neck, where it--oh. W-Was it…  _ supposed _ to come apart like that?”

Geralt snorts, “Yes, little lark. It’s meant to come apart like that.” The younger man’s shoulders sag in relief… until his brain processes what exactly it is that he’s holding in his hand. “Though, gods know I’m glad you’re not pointing it toward  _ yourself _ , given your propensity for…  _ accidents _ , I’d much prefer if you didn’t point the shiv--,”

“Geralt,” Jaskier speaks slowly, testing out each letter on his tongue. “I’m holding a knife.”

He nods, “You are.”

“There’s poison on the blade, isn’t there?” He continues, sounding far too calm. The blade remains pointed at Geralt.

“Ricin.”

“Oh.” His hand trembles a bit as he slides the miniature blade back into the sheath, his teeth digging into his plump bottom lip as he contemplates what he wants to say. Finally, “Um… At the risk of sounding completely unappreciative of the lovely…  _ lovely _ gesture…  _ Why did you give me a necklace tainted with one of the deadliest poisons known to man?” _

The necklace itself is absolutely  _ breathtaking.  _ The pendant is made of pure silver, and must have cost the Witcher a small fortune. It is modeled after the wolf on his own pendant, with two small, faceted goshenite stones acting as the wolf’s eyes. Jaskier is well-versed in the knowledge of gemstones, and he knows that goshenite is infamous for stimulating and promoting creativity and originality. Something warm bubbles up inside of him at the thought that Geralt would put so much thought into a gift… even if it harbors a dark, poisonous secret.

The wolf’s tail is curled around a large piece of rough onyx, cut in the shape of a tooth. Onyx has a variety of different meanings, depending on the culture, but Jaskier has always been particularly fond of personal power stemming from facing your greatest fears. The onyx forms the handle of the small shiv tucked up inside of the wolf’s body, and Jaskier is certain that there must be some sort of reservoir therein to hold the excess poison. He runs his thumb over the rough edges of the gemstone and prays to the gods he never has to use it.

It’s a… foolish dream, to be sure. Given his talent for attracting trouble, and the numerous gray hairs it causes his Witcher each time he has an intimate brush with death, the gift is rather considerate. One truly does not need to have any particular talent with a blade to shove a poisoned shiv in another man’s gullet, and few would look at such a handsome pendant and think that he was hiding anything dangerous within. Geralt had truly thought of everything… had thought of  _ him _ . And he’d spent a handsome amount of coin in the hopes of keeping him safe.

Geralt reaches to remove the chain, “It was… foolish of me to think you would appreciate such a gift. I apologize.” He lefts out a soft sigh, “I know how you love your rings… Perhaps a poison ring would have been more fitting. Though it would hardly be as useful in a combat situation--,”

Jaskier stumbles back, curling his fingers around the necklace protectively, “I… I already told you you’re not taking it back.” He says, tone brokering no room for argument. 

Geralt raises one dark eyebrow, “You seemed… less then enamoured with the gift, once you discovered its… less savory properties.” He allows his hand to fall, no longer actively attempting to take the necklace back.

“Yes, well, I hardly think that I can be blamed for that, considering one hardly expects to find a poisoned shiv in their run of the mill necklace.” Jaskier continues, sarcasm dripping from each and every word. “But… You did this to protect me, right? So that I can continue to come on hunts with you and you won’t have to worry--,”

“Hmm,” muscular arms curl around the bard’s shoulders, dragging him closer to bury his face in the Witcher’s chest. “I’ll always worry.”

Jaskier splutters, “Y-You can’t just  _ say _ stuff like that when I can’t even look at your face!”

The Witcher chuckles, “Oh, can’t I now?”

“I…” Jaskier licks his lips, curling his fingers around the soft material of Geralt’s ebony tunic, “I would like you to teach me how to use it. Properly. I mean, not using the  _ poisoned _ blade, of course. Not that I’d be able to do you any serious harm--,”

“Naturally.”

Jaskier resists the urge to roll his eyes, “Let a man dream.” He sighs, “I’m trying to ask you to train me. At least enough so that I know where to aim the shiv on the off-chance whatever monster is tormenting the poor townsfolk this week manages to make it past you.”

Geralt grunts again, but does not answer him immediately. 

He takes the bard’s wrist, carefully inspecting where he’d been ‘scratched’ by a werewolf almost three weeks earlier. It was really more of a severe laceration, but… he wasn’t about to argue with Jaskier as the fool bled out in his arms because his prattling had caught the attention of the beast and he’d paid for it with a severed ulnar artery. Jaskier had done a lot of stupid shit in the years he’d been following Geralt, but that… that was one of the first times he’d truly thought he might lose the other. And it scared the shit out of him. He brings the scarred flesh to his lips, planting a feather-soft kiss on the inside of his wrist.

“If you promise to wear this, and never-- _ never _ \--take it off… then I will train you.” He promises, drawing back just far enough to brush his lips over the crown of Jaskier’s head. 

He can almost feel the bard’s smile as he responds with a soft, revenant, “I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

“Good. Then we start tomorrow, at daybreak--,”

“Daybreak? Really? Can’t we just  _ sleep in  _ for once…” Jaskier grumbles, mouth twisted into an adorable pout as he toddles along after Geralt like an oversized puppy. And all is right with the world. 


End file.
